the nonsense of living
who are you
to break my name
when you’ve never held my hunger
or bled my flame?
who am i
to step on these black borrowed stones
drowning in this pond
of hollow bones?
there’s a space between stars
filled with wing-shaped answers
and the ladder
hangs from clouds
strung by bees
.
.
A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month. Day 4
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge.
.
April 4th, 2015 at 1:26 pm
This is one of those poems that unfold like a slo-mo flower sequence, from bud to bloom, not rapidly, but inevitably. I especially love the way the last stanza takes off.
April 12th, 2015 at 3:35 am
ethereal. you write of aether like you are from it ~